Phantom Weft
by MyWhitelighter
Summary: Even all-knowing Whitelighters started somewhere and were discovering once, and Leo Wyatt is no exception. Behind hushed sentences and tight-lipped mouths, he's always had a story of his own to tell - just never the desire to tell it. Some trials are better left buried, and yet; some adventures were always written to be read, yellow pages curling until you can resist no longer..


**So, I lied. I said the next thing I wrote would be Harry Potter, but what can you do when inspiration strikes? Anyway, Leo has always been one of my favourite characters and I didn't think there were enough fics about him. This is more of a test run, so please let me know if you think it's worth continuing! Leave reviews in exchange for cookies, but most importantly – enjoy. ^_^**

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"The reason angels can fly is because they take themselves lightly." ~G.K. Chesterton

* * *

_Wipe. Bandage. Repeat._

It was all Leo could do to keep his mind focused as the world fell to pieces around him. His mind was a blur, a rush of unorganised and fleeting thoughts, each more terrifying than the last. Faces of men he barely knew plagued his every waking moment, as if by replacing the features of those closest to him with strangers he might be able to wipe away the pain for just a moment. Rick. Nathan. And the endless Nothing that followed the explosion that blew up the med tent.

(Wipe–

Crashes and expansive fulminations had his ears ringing to the point where he could barely hear the men yelling behind him; the screams of _Medic, Medic,_ the only word that meant anything now, echoing relentlessly across his consciousness, but he was stretched too thin. It was an ambush, they hadn't been expecting an attack that morning – but there was nothing they could do now. The loss of the med tent had cracked their resistance; how could they possibly hope to come out of this alive when there were more injured men they could count grains of sand on the beach below them?

–Bandage)

But most important of all was his sense of rigid repetition. The determination that even if he had failed his closest friends, he would not fail anyone else. He could put aside the pain and the emptiness if only for a clandestine moment so he could find his inner purpose, and realise why he was there in the first place – it came in a flash of blue and white. Possessed by his newfound resolve, his fingers worked as nimbly as they could and his mind was as sharp and focused as a carver's knife. It was beautiful; uplifting, as if he were working magic with his very hands. As if the man's head that he was supporting and wrapping beneath the weight of his arms were only a feather, as if the hope held in his heart were a beacon, and as if he _knew_ this was what he should be doing, what he would carry on doing until the moment the breath was taken from his body.

_Repeat._

There was a flash of light, a searing pain in his back, and that was all Leo remembered.

* * *

Heaven was a beautiful place – more peaceful and proud and delicate than he could have thought up in his deepest deliberations and boy, had he ever thought about it. With the prospect of death always being so near, almost every man Leo had known had asked what Heaven would be like. The irony of it all was he could count on at least two hands the amount of times he had been accused of being an angel in the heat of delirium he had witnessed at the hands of wounds, plagues and fevers over his service. When Leo awoke there was nothing weighing on his mind, as if he were a blank canvas. All worry had been wiped away, replaced by a one-levelled serenity that came with being at peace with one's death, and he was content. He had done his best, he had tried to save as many lives as he could, and he was ready to accept his place in his afterlife. It was still questionable whether an afterlife existed, but as he felt himself floating and tipping as if nowhere was up in the endless White around him, he felt like believing in one.

_He had done his best_.

"Leo," he heard a voice and he tried to turn towards the sound, but it felt like it was coming from everywhere. When he thought he was facing the right direction he could feel an echo ricocheting of somewhere behind him, but he wasn't even sure the concept of Behind even existed where he was. He felt as if he were turning, but it was almost as if that were only a perception designed to fool him as there was no Direction where he was floating.

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Hello?" He called out, sounding weary and tired and blinded by White.

"Leo," stronger this time, he was sure he had to be able to place where it was coming from, and he realised he needed to look up. In that moment he knew he was staring into the face of an angel – the brightest light shone around the woman's face, her soft smile glowing like the sun and her arms reaching out to him as if he were only a young boy.

"Where am I?" Leo asked, his voice weakened by his awe.

She held out her hands for him to take. "Exactly where you think you are." Without a moment's hesitation he slid his hand into hers, and nodded as if her answer made sense to him. He felt foggy and displaced here, as if all rationality were left on that faraway beach. As their hands connected she floated down to his eye-level, but he was still confused.

"Why am I here?"

She smiled, and the World glittered. "To collect your reward."

Their joined hands began to glow and Leo could feel warmth spreading out from them, filling his body with a welcoming tingling sensation and he breathed in deeply, enjoying the relaxation it brought. "What are you doing?"

"This isn't me, Leo, this is you."

His expression morphed into a small, bemused frown. "I don't understand."

She didn't answer right away, instead tilting her head to the side as if she were analysing him. "You like to help people, don't you Leo?" He got the distinct impression she already knew the answer to that question.

"Are you an angel?" Leo asked finally, feeling more like himself with every passing minute and wondering if it was anything to do with the glow their hands had finally stopped emitting.

The angel laughed, a soft tinkling sound that had him thinking of bells from the church around the corner from where he grew up. "You could say that, yes. And I'm here to offer you the chance of becoming one too."

Leo blinked, taking a moment to process this information. "Me?" What on earth would an angel want with him? He couldn't remember ever having done anything worth noting by a divine being – and yet, here he was. Lost in an expanse of White, his life before fading from his mind with every moment he spent in the Heavenly plane and in the soft hands of the angel before him, and despite all of his questions he felt at peace. He looked upwards, and found them surrounded by a circle of men and women, angels, in the same robes as the one holding his hands, all floating above him with hoods raised and mystery radiating from them like heat from the sun. "Are they angels too?" He asked, dropping his gaze to the one standing before him. (Or floating, as the idea of standing seemed more like an illusion than a fact.)

The angel simply smiled. "My name is Sandra. We want to offer you the opportunity to spend an eternity helping people, Leo, as we do. Would you like that?"

If there was something that was still familiar to him from the life he left behind on the beach, it was the burning sense of determination he had felt when tending to the head wound of the battered soldier. He had let so many people down; people he held dear, men he had wanted to save but couldn't, and friends with whom he hadn't even tried. Perhaps this was his chance at redemption? To make amends for all his perceived wrongdoings in his past life and try and create a future with less hurt and less pain. He didn't know _how_ he would be expected to help people, as Sandra had said, but he found it didn't really matter. The answer was obvious the moment the question had left her lips, and Leo smiled.

"Yes," he murmured, his tone soft and secure. "I would like that a lot."

* * *

**12****th**** October, 1955**

"Leo, look out!"

More out of habit than of an actual awareness of what he should be looking out for, Leo ducked, and heard the familiar fizzling sound of an energy ball being thrown over his head. He turned as soon as he'd righted himself, confronted with the contorted sneering face of the oncoming Sparker demon. Electricity crackled from his finger tips and a tongue darted out to wet his upper lip as he surveyed the Whitelighter, ready to savour the murder of his next victim. Holding in the one hand a split power cable with an open end, it began to form a second energy ball, this one crackling and sizzling more than the last as he drew power from the raw electricity of the cable. As Leo backed away down the decrepit alleyway, he searched frantically for something he could do to stop him, but before a plan could form he spied a large metal rod flying from his right and hitting the demon right in the stomach, winding him, and he dropped the cable in his momentary loss of composure.

"The power line Leo, come _on_!" His companion chided him, but he didn't need telling twice. He shook himself back to his senses and pulled the potion from his pocket, darting over to the still sparkling split cable and dribbled the contents over the open end. He jumped back from the ensuing crackles and sparks, and nodded to his companion who telekinetically moved the rod she had been restraining the Sparker demon with.

With a roar he reached for his power cable again, and Leo grabbed his partner's hand and pulled her away from the angry demon, preparing himself for the effect he knew would be instantaneous. The demon seemed to notice something was wrong and dropped his gaze to the power line he held in the one hand, and his eyes widened. His body began to shake and convulse, his limbs casting out in all directions as the magically tainted electricity he was absorbing began to transfuse through his bloodstream.

With an almighty scream, his body dispersed into thousands of tiny burning pieces, covering the alleyway in still sparkling blood and leaving the two Whitelighters in the sizzling wake of the demon's vanquish.

Leo breathed out a sigh of relief, as his heart rate slowly began to return to normal. "That was a close one," he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and threw a grin at his partner, but she only gave him a stern look in response.

"Nearly eight years on the job Leo, and your reactions are still just as bad as when you started," she tutted. "Half the time it's like working with a trainee Whitelighter when I'm with you."

Used to such criticisms from her, he sighed. "We _got_ it, Natalie. Isn't that good enough?" She pursed her lips in thought, but a small smile did begin to tug at the corner of her mouth. Seeing he was getting through to his friend Leo grinned. "Isn't it?"

"I suppose," she allowed, but still folded her arms and tried to at least pretend she was still irritated, before remembering herself. "The girl, Leo."

Remembering at the same moment as her, the pair of them darted back down the alley where they'd come, and found her unconscious on the floor exactly where they'd left her. As they'd appeared to confront the Sparker a witch had already been there before them, just being knocked out by his electric field just as they reached her. Natalie brushed some of her auburn hair from her eyes as Leo knelt down to heal her, before sitting beside them as the girl came around.

"What's going on?" She mumbled, trying to orientate herself. "Where's the demon?"

"Vanquished," Leo supplied, offering her a warm smile. "You're safe now."

The girl frowned at the pair of them, and shuffled backwards away from Leo. "Who are _you_?"

Leo opened his mouth to reply but Natalie cut him off. "No one you need to concern yourself with," she threw her partner a pointed look, and Leo shut his mouth.

"What she said," he sighed. Natalie had always been a stickler for keeping their secret and the rules – if the witches didn't need to know about their identities, then there was no sense in revealing them to them.

The girl stood up and Leo followed, and she eyed them suspiciously. "How do I know you aren't Warlocks?"

Leo raised his eyebrows. "We just saved your _life_," he protested, even at Natalie's glare.

"Well, then, what would the name of my saviours be?" She folded her arms.

"Leo," he answered, before Natalie could cut him off. "And this is Natalie. And you?"

She still seemed wary, but her guard relaxed very little. "Penny. Penny Johnson." The surname didn't ring a bell (it was mortal, in fact) but Leo could recognise her magic anywhere. She was a descendent of Melinda Warren, and that in itself set her apart from other witches – the Warren witches were a very powerful magical family, that much was common knowledge amongst most Whitelighters. You were considered lucky if you were given the opportunity to have a Warren as your charge. Leo wondered absently if this Penelope had a Whitelighter of her own. "How did you vanquish the Sparker?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her suspicion. "My mother and I have been trying for weeks."

Leo looked to Natalie to see if he could say anything, and she shook her head – and generally, what Natalie said _went_. "It's not important," Leo tried to change the subject. "Can we walk you home, Penny Johnson?"

The Sparker had been after witches around the San Francisco area for a while now, and the Elders were beginning to get a little on edge – a few had died already, normal witch powers being useful when in range of its electrical field. It also had an annoying habit of absorbing a Whitelighter's orbs, which made their powers ineffective too. Leo and Natalie had teamed up two of their charges to try and get them to come up with some sort of potion recipe that might be able to put a stop to the source of its power. And, luckily, they'd struck gold. The witches themselves couldn't get close enough to the Sparker to perform the vanquish, so Natalie and Leo had volunteered – it wasn't naturally within their job description, but they had vanquished the odd demon on their own before. And there lay the remains of a dead demon in front of them.

It turned out Penny Johnson lived in the manor on top of the spiritual nexus. Leo had known that some good witches had bought the land and built a house on it to stop the spot from falling into the hands of evil, but he hadn't realised it was the Warren witches – something else that added to their power, he supposed, if their home was right on top of the Wiccan nexus and equidistant from all the elements.

Penny was still a little offhand and wary of the two Whitelighters, but was gradually easing herself into a conversation with them – she'd barely allowed them to walk her home (what kind of witch really needed an escort?) but her curiosity about their identities had her indulging the young man walking beside her, much to Natalie's chagrin. And suddenly – in a moment of clarity – she realised who they were.

"You're Whitelighters, aren't you?" Penny asked finally, and Leo shifted uncomfortably at their secret having been discovered so easily. Not that it was a _real_ secret, it was just preferable that as little people knew as possible. "It's alright, really. I've always wanted to meet one – my mother says I might have one of my own soon, so I'm still waiting." She acted mature, but she must've still at least been in her mid-teens, or at most around eighteen – still a girl in Leo's eyes.

Leo smiled. "You'll just have to see."

Penny eyed him. "I don't suppose _you_...?"

"Erm, no," Leo shook his head, ignoring Natalie's warning look. "As convenient as that would be, no."

Natalie cleared her throat. "Leo, we've got to go. It was a pleasure meeting you Penny."

Leo had been about to offer to walk her to the door, when he realised _just_ how familiar the manor looked to him. It wasn't just the spiritual nexus – or the Wiccan one, for that matter – but there was something else stirring in the depths of his memory as he looked up at a few of the coloured windows. Snippets of loud jazz music and laughter pulled at the corners of his mind, a flash of brown hair and the curving of a feminine lower lip transfixed him, all whispers on the wind as they blew past him. As she prepared to leave them, Penny gave him an odd look.

"Do you... want to come inside?" She offered, wondering why he was staring so bizarrely at her house. "I know my mother would be keen to meet the Whitelighters who finally vanquished the Sparker.

His first instinct was to agree, but something was holding him back – for some odd reason, a sense of foreboding crawled up his spine and simply _everything_ about him seemed to suggest it was a bad idea. Never being one to ignore an instinct, Leo shook his head. "Look after yourself, Penny. Maybe we'll see you around."

Penny didn't sound too thrilled at the idea, but was polite. "Maybe." Nodding her head gratefully at her rescuers, she headed up the steps and stepped into the manor without so much of a backwards glance. As the door opened he could almost _feel_ the music pouring out of it, but soon the door was shut and the melody gone and he shook himself back to his senses.

"Are you alright, Leo?" Natalie frowned as she waited for him to follow her down the street. "Normally you're always eager to hug up to all the witches we meet." Much to her chagrin, she might add – their charges should be the only witches they interact with, after all.

The veiled accusation surprised him for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were okay," she continued.

"Oh," he answered, for some reason wanting to be vague. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I think." Natalie didn't buy it for a second – they had known each other for years now. After having served during World War Two together and becoming Whitelighters around the same time, they'd become a somewhat amiable partnership over the years. All that shared history left Leo like an open book to her, and he knew it. "Anyway," he avoided her critical gaze. "I actually better go. I told Marla I'd help her on her shift this evening at the restaurant."

Natalie brushed some hair from her eyes, letting him be for the moment. "You have the weirdest ways of getting to know your charges. I always just keep an eye on them and orb out if they look like they'll see me."

Leo shrugged. "I like getting to know the person before the witch – I feel like that's important."

She didn't look convinced. Leo didn't really care.

As the pair of them found a side street they could orb out from, they were unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching them from the shadows, coated in the shelter the rubble could provide them with.

"That's him?" One of them asked, his voice a low rasp that rumbled in his throat before forming words.

"That's him," the other replied; his tone curt and businesslike. "Leo Wyatt. The upstart – the Elders' little prodigy." Disgust tinted his words and elicited a breathy laugh from his companion. "Apparently the Founders are very taken with him."

The laugh broke into a fit of coughing that took the shadow a moment to recover from, but still the low hiss persisted, an undertone of glee clutching to the edge of his words. "Then he is where their displacement begins."

The businesslike voice affirmed. "And where white magic ends – for good."

* * *

**So there you have it. This story would probably be split into two parts – the first about his life pre-the-Charmed-ones, and the second about his time with them and, of course, where he goes when he's not fixing the manor. ;) Let me know if you want to see it continued, please review! **

**~MyWhitelighter**


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